


Red Letter Day

by orphan_account



Category: EastEnders
Genre: Chryed, M/M, finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who to blame, who to blame?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Letter Day

**Author's Note:**

> Final part of the Delivery series

Red Letter Day

 

 

He loved his brother, but seriously? When the hell had he grown up! More specifically: when had he grown into this know-it-all I-have-no-problems-with-gay-men-and-what's-more-your- boyfriend's-really-cool arrogant bloody teenager? Had he _missed_ something... or something? Even now, even though he'd been scolded, told in no uncertain terms to wind his neck in his brother was still 'contributing' to the wholly private conversation  he was trying to have with Christian!

“Oh really? I love musicals! No, I vote for the musical. Films you can see any time.”

Syed gave him a quelling look. “Well that's interesting, Tam, except, since you won't be coming I don't see how you loving musicals has any bearing on the matter.” He could tell by Christian's side-long glance that he thought he was being pompous. Well, _he_ didn't have any younger brothers, wasn't aware that should you fail to keep them in line then all hell would break loose, and you _would_ eventually regret it...

“Oh, I know I won't be going, I was just saying.”

“Well, don't.”

There was a long silence, well sort of: Tam was muttering something under his breath and Christian started softly whistling something under _his_ breath.

So they thought he was being a dickhead. Well, too bad: he wasn't in a good mood. Bloody Tamwar had made him out himself, plus he'd now have to confront his mother, putting himself in a really awkward position. Bad enough that he was having to explain to her why he'd allowed Tamwar to stay with him; why he'd given him a mobile phone in the first place – basically fucking _lie_ – but he'd now have to introduce Christian to the family – something he hadn't been planning to do for years and years... So yeah, even if he was being a bastard – who could blame him?

 

**

 

“I'll wait here.” Christian still had the engine running, hands on the steering wheel, apparently expecting Syed to be in and out in a minute or two. 

Syed silently shook his head, wondering if as well as not having any younger siblings, Christian even had a mother! “Christian, I can't leave you out here. Switch off the engine, come on. You might as well come in.” Their eyes met. Syed shrugged and said no more. Christian was aware that he wasn't ready to come out to his family, so hopefully would understand that this wasn't the formal 'meet my boyfriend' event they'd half joked about and therefore, be on his best behaviour.

“Okay, if you're sure.” He switched off the engine. “Wish I'd brought some flowers, though.” He was smiling, and although Syed wanted to show his irritation (for he was very irritated) he found himself returning the smile.

“Well, my mum's not the easiest to please – even when it comes to flowers.”

“Don't think she likes them, to be honest.” For someone who had got his brother in a hell of a lot of trouble Tamwar was looking _remarkably_ relaxed.

“Tam, get your stuff.” He knew he was being too sharp, but he honestly wasn't feeling at all well-disposed toward his younger brother at the moment.

“Yes, Sir!” When Tam met Syed's eyes, saw just how unamused he was he made a face, but knowing better than to continue in that vein simply picked up his bag and started walking toward the front door.

Syed watched him for a moment, until feeling Christian's light touch on his arm, turned his gaze away. “You don't know my mum,” was all he offered in response to Christian's look of enquiry.

“I'd like to.”

Syed looked at him. “No,” he corrected. “You wouldn't.”

 

**

They'd moved to this house when Syed was 11 and at the time he'd thought they'd really moved up in the world. It had certainly been a step up from their 2 bed terraced house in the less salubrious part of town. He'd known that his mum hated their old house and had been nagging his dad for what seemed like his entire life to buy a bigger, better house 'somewhere nice'. But his dad was a factory worker, and apparently wasn't earning enough to afford the house Syed's mother wanted, so they'd had to wait, and wait until somehow they'd managed to get something within their budget. It was a nice enough house, but now he'd travelled a bit, become worldlier it seemed incredibly small and poky. His mum still liked living here, though. She basically ruled their small cul-de-sac and, as far as he could tell had no intention of ever moving anywhere else where her status might have to be re-built from the ground up.

His mother was a formidable person – even he could see that, although, to him she had and would always simply be 'mum'. He knew that she was stunningly intelligent, frighteningly ambitious and had a will that would have been the envy of yogis, yet she had smothered him in love and affection for as long as he could remember. Whatever he wanted, he would eventually get. He didn't see himself as spoilt, but knew that she wasn't as permissive with either Shabnam or Tamwar, and knew too that he should probably have felt more ashamed of the favouritism shown to him, but at this stage in life saw it as nothing more than his due.

The big drawback to being the apple of his mother's eye, of course, was the possessiveness that came with it. She had the most definite and determined plans for him – he would become a doctor (or an accountant, but doctor would be better), marry a nice girl from Pakistan, give _her_ lots of grandsons. His mother loved Shabnam, of that he was not in doubt, but it was clear that she did not value women, saw them as lesser than herself, lesser than men, (which was quite funny to Syed, since it was clear that she held the majority of men in utter contempt) so she didn't want granddaughters – only grandsons.

Syed tried to recall a time when he'd ever felt any enthusiasm about playing his part in the culmination of her dreams.

Nope, couldn't recall _ever_ wanting what she wanted for him. Oh he'd been _prepared_ to do it all, but now that he was being honest, couldn't say he believed it had ever been anything he'd ever really wanted for himself.

He'd eventually worked out that he'd just assumed it was _normal_ to be lukewarm about getting married, about being with a woman the rest of your life – playing happy families. He'd come to the conclusion that adults lied about life, making out that things were a lot more exciting and important than they actually turned out to be and had merely assumed that the lie about love was just one more of those.

Turns out that the lie was simply that it had to be a _woman_ that'd make you feel that way.

But it was a big lie – a lie that, once taken as truth, had the capacity to ruin your entire bloody life.

Yet all the things he'd been prepared to do to keep himself safe had been completely blown out of the water once he'd found the initial courage to accept Christian's unspoken invitation.

The lie had been turned on its head.

And yet he still hadn't found a way to reconcile himself to telling his mother that her dreams for him would, now, never come to fruition.

He hoped to god that today wouldn't force his hand.

 

**

He'd told her he was coming, of course: his mother didn't like surprises. When he came to the door, Christian just behind him, she was standing there, waiting. She didn't look happy, but then he hadn't expected her to, had he?

When she saw they had an extra person with them he saw her mouth tighten even more: she hated public scenes – well, at least those scenes which made her appear to _not_ be the loving matriarch of an adoring, perfectly-mannered tribe. Her look said: 'you and I will have words', while her mouth formed a smile as her deceptively benign gaze came to rest on Christian's face. “Oh Syed, is this a friend from University?”

He could practically feel Christian – and Tamwar's – expectant gazes pressing on him as he decided just _how_ to respond. “Hello, mum.” He embraced, then kissed her, deciding in that moment just how he was going to play it. “Christian offered to help me get Tam home.” When he turned to Christian his pleading gaze said: 'go with this, please'. He knew he didn't need to say it to Tamwar: Tamwar _knew_ their mother, after all.

“Oh? That's nice.” Her gaze was very firmly fixed on Christian and it was clear to Syed that she hadn't as yet managed to place him in a category. He could be someone important or a complete nonentity – she hadn't quite been able to decide as yet and as such would most probably be fairly polite until she did decide. “I hope it wasn't too much trouble, Mr...”

Stepping forward, with a smile, Christian offered his hand. “Clarke – Christian.”

“Oh, Mr. Clarke...Christian. Thank you. Would you like a drink? We have squosh or fruit juice or maybe some tea or coffee?”

“Coffee would be lovely, thank you.” He was still smiling, in that genuine way he had and Syed found himself wondering if Christian’s charm might actually work on his mum. It hadn't even crossed his mind that his mum might _like_ Christian. So concerned with the fact that he was in a relationship with Christian, that Christian was gay it hadn't occurred to him to see Christian as a charming, likeable man of whom his mother would approve. The fact of the matter was that apart from the gay thing Christian actually had a lot of the qualities his mother admired in men.

“Okay.” As she briefly turned her attention on him, Syed saw that the smile had become genuine. “Syed, show Christian to the front room. I won't be long. Tamwar!” Her voice acted as a kind of net that caught the sneakily fleeing Tamwar and pulled him back – hard. Used to this, knowing that what came next would not be pretty Syed hastily took Christian firmly by the elbow and moved him into the front lounge. 

As always there was no sense of any activity ever having taken place in this room. He believed his mum routinely dusted and disinfected the room to within an inch of its life regardless of whether it had seen any use within the previous months or not. The truth was that it was rarely used – most visitors were well enough known to warrant the usage of the second reception room – the room they all used – and hardly anyone had ever been allowed to see the inside of the front room.

It was a pretty old-fashioned room, he felt: the furniture was expensive, classic, but really ugly (in his opinion). He'd never liked the room, but since it was more than his life was worth to voice any sort of opinion on his mother's arrangement of her domestic affairs (even when it affected the entire family) he'd never said a word. He couldn't help seeing it through Christian's eyes now, however, and a part of him cringed as he saw Christian take in the room in a swift assessing glance. “Sit anywhere,” he told him.

“Thanks.” Smiling, Christian took the armchair in front of the window. He had a flirtatious gleam in his eye, which in other circumstances would have evoked a very particular response in Syed. Now, however, aware that his mother could walk in at any moment and almost paranoid about her ability to sniff out the love between Christian and himself he became prickly, almost angry.

“Christian, come on: she could walk in at any moment!” He unconsciously moved a few paces back, out of the magnetic circle of Christian's presence, unable to recall exactly how one was supposed to behave with someone who was supposedly just a friend. His greatest fear was that he'd unknowingly give himself away around Christian, concluding that distance was his only defence.

Christian's expression didn't alter; he still seemed inappropriately amused so far as Syed was concerned. “She's nice. Looks a bit like you.”

Syed snorted. He didn't think he had ever heard his mother described as nice before. “Well, yeah – she's my mum.”

Christian laughed, still with _that_ look on his face. He may as well have patted his lap for the grumpy Syed to sit on, lose his bad mood. Syed _definitely_ recognised that look. “Tamwar doesn't look like you.”

“Whatever, just don't get too comfortable, I really don't want us to stay.”

“Well we'll have to stay for a bit now, surely.” Adjusting his position he seemed to sink a little more into the uncomfortable chair. “I don't think you can just spend ten minutes, Sy.”

 Syed stared at him without speaking. He was right, of course, but that didn't mean that Syed had to like it. The longer they stayed the more likely they were – okay Christian was – to give them away, and this certainty was like pressure on a sore tooth – constant, nagging. “Just-” He broke off, uncertain how to continue. They hadn't discussed this at length, but enough had been said for Christian to be fully aware of his conflicting emotions on the subject of coming out to his parents. Syed knew that Christian was one of those gay guys who very much believed in 'out and proud' and that his low key response to Syed's conflict was simply a result of his love and care for him. It was clear that he was pretty much constantly biting his tongue during their – rare – discussions. Syed was awaiting the day when the tongue biting ended unexpectedly, accompanied by an explosion in which home truths were told. He was prepared for this, just didn't want it to happen at his parents' house...

“Sy,” Soft tone, _familiar_ tone. “Don't worry. I've got your back, okay?”

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Syed smiled. “We won't be long. Promise.”

“I know. Relax.” He looked relaxed, ankles crossed, hands on his thighs. Anyone would think he met the reactionary parents of his Muslim lover every day!

“Believe me I'm trying, but I know mum – you don't.”

“I know, but as you yourself said; we won't be long – and then we can relax, spend some time together...” _That_ look again.

Syed felt the colour suffuse his cheeks, which was when his mother chose to come in bearing a tray filled to overflowing with stuff she certainly wouldn't have offered _him_ in the normal course of events. “Syed, get the table.” Her tone implied that she'd told him – more than once – to do this and could not believe that he hadn't obeyed her. “I added some cakes, Christian. I made them this morning.” Anyone would think she'd just confessed to being the woman who'd not only found the stones with which the Crown Jewels had been fashioned, but the very craftswoman who'd made the treasure itself!

“Ooh, lovely.” Rising he took the tray from her. “I have such a sweet tooth, you would not believe.”

His mother's laugh – giggle – had Syed's brows rising to his hairline. “There is nothing wrong with that, and look at you, you are so slim, it is obvious you have nothing to worry about on that score.”

Shocked into speechlessness Syed could only stare at his mother's flirtatious profile as she practically simpered up at Christian. Was she, was she actually... _flirting_... with his boyfriend?

Christian's answering chuckle was as flirtatious as he'd come to expect, but Christian was just that way inclined, couldn't help himself. His mother, though? What the hell? “Oh you charmer. I can certainly see where your son gets it from.”

“Yes, he has always had girls swarming around him. The problem is to get him to choose one – a suitable one – to marry. He is too fickle, too interested in playing around, but it is time.” Of course she was looking at him now all while ostensibly addressing her remarks to their guest. “Time to find him a suitable wife.”

“Mum, we'll-”

“Ah, see I find that it's when you go _looking_ for a suitable husband – or wife – that it becomes difficult.” Christian, was sitting now, and with a subtle, but definitive gesture of the hand invited Syed's mum to join him on the ugly sofa. He'd taken charge of the 'meeting'. Syed had seen him do it on several occasions, so recognised what he was seeing, and felt the tension rise, heart speeding as he wondered what the hell Christian was playing at. “I find that the best people come into our lives when we _stop_ trying to find her - or him.” A little laugh – self-deprecating, full of charm. Syed could see his mother being drawn in with every gesture, every word. “Call me a romantic, but it's generally the girl or guy you _never_ expected to see in your local coffee shop who ends up being the love of your life; the one you meet when you've stopped looking for the perfect wife or husband. And the thing is if you want it to happen it'll happen – you honestly don't _need_ to go looking for it.” He looked up at Syed, and smiled. “Don't worry, he'll find the perfect partner, have the perfect marriage. I'm pretty sure he's ready to settle down. Right Syed?” He waited for Syed's bemused nod before turning that same smile on Syed's mother. “I know you worry about his future – only natural that a good mother would worry about her children's future – but if you trust him to know his own heart and act on what his heart tells him you'll also trust him to make the right choices. Maybe not straight away, but when it's right he'll know.” He touched her gently on the hand. “You don't need to worry.”

So effective and subtle a spell had he woven that Syed felt himself drawn in, certain that what he was hearing made the most marvellous sense, all his concerns over the impracticalities, impossibilities of living life as a gay man – coupled or not – simply melting in the cauldron of potent magic Christian had brewed. But his mother was not so easily swayed. He fully expected her to pull away from Christian, remind herself - and him - that he was a stranger and had no business telling her her business, which was, after all, none of his business... Well Syed had no doubt that Christian would be able to handle her unpleasantness, he just didn't want him to have to. 

But his mother surprised him: she didn't move away at all, indeed seemed remarkably comfortable with this strange man advising her to alter her long held beliefs; didn't even look for even a _second_ like she was considering which part of him to rip into first.

Syed gaped at the tableau, wondering again what the fuck kind of spell Christian had woven. First his brother, now his mother...

“You have a wife, Christian?” The question was...neutral...something Syed had never believed he'd ever have been able to say about this particular question from his mother. On the question of marriage she was far, far from neutral – vehemently so.

Syed held his breath.

Christian smiled. “No, but it's my sincere hope and desire to marry the person I love in the not too distant future.”

Good answer, _great_ answer if his mother's reaction was anything to go by. Still, it was probably a good idea to get him out of there before the dangerous game he was playing started biting him hard in the backside.

“Christian, we honestly have to think about getting back. You've got a long journey ahead of you, remember?”

Christian met his eyes, but his expression told Syed that he wasn't playing that game. Before Christian could answer, however, Syed's mother chimed in.

“Nonsense. Christian is staying for dinner. I am sure you can make a phone call, Syed.” Her expression became hard. “If I remember correctly you are very fond of mobile phones, so much so that you can give them away to anyone who asks – even when they have no business having one in the first place! So make a phone call on Christian's behalf. I am sure you can come up with a good excuse!” Her expression left him in no doubt as to the dressing down that would be coming his way once they were out of earshot of the honoured guest whose favourable impression of the Masood matriarch would, naturally, be sullied by seeing or hearing actual evidence of the harridan she could be...

“It's not my place,” he objected, knowing the futility of this, but because he was a stubborn bastard going there anyway.

His mother's mouth tightened as she gathered her reserves to verbally blast him.

Christian deflated the tension. 

“No, it's okay, I'll make the phone call. Syed doesn't know my friends – they live down south – and if he phoned on my behalf they'd probably think the worse and drive up here!” His laugh invited Syed's mother to join with him in lamenting the over the top antics of concerned friends. Well forget the over the top antics of concerned friends. Since she was exactly the type of person who'd do what Christian had suggested he'd somehow again managed to find exactly the right example to get her in his groove.

Watching them Syed wondered if he'd stepped into some surreal version of his life, where his mum found herself utterly pole-axed by the charm of this stranger, all without knowing she was being courted by her son's gay lover, the guy who'd pretty much _told_ her to stop trying to marry him off; that she needed to be happy for him to follow where his heart led; oh and yeah, that he fully intended to marry him some day!

If he hadn't been besotted with Christian he'd probably have been bloody terrified of him!

“Okay, but you will stay for dinner, yes?”

“Of course, I'd be delighted to. I'll just make that phone call. May I step outside for a moment?” He'd already risen, phone in hand. Since there was no-one to call, Syed assumed he'd go to the car and sit there for a few minutes coming up with more nefarious ways to get his mum on side...

Fuck's sake, who _was_ this guy?

 

**

 

“Oh do not bother, Syed. Did you really think that Tamwar would be able to keep up the lie? He is not you, he cannot lie to save his own life! He told me that there was no mobile phone, that he ran away to you – and you kept him overnight without telling me!”

Bloody Tamwar! Why come up with a scheme if he wasn't going to be able to sell it? “He pleaded with me, mum, what could I do?”

“Do? What could you do? You could have made a phone call to your parents to let us know that our child was not lying dead in a basement somewhere; that he was not in a hospital in a coma; that he had not been attacked by racist thugs wearing tattoos and army boots. That is what you could have done! Instead you make me have sleepless nights-”

“Mum, I told you on the same day he went missing.” His compulsion to correct was understandable. A mistake of course, but understandable. “You didn’t actually go to bed _not_ knowing where he was.”

“And then you bring a guest without letting me know. Look at the state of the house, Syed. How could you?”

Since there was no point he didn't bother to argue with her. “You like him, then.”

“It is obvious he has a good job. What does he do for a living?”

She surely couldn't look at Christian and see accountant - or doctor. _Surely_. “He has a couple of businesses. Down south. He's a partner in several, but I know he's the sole proprietor of two.”

The change in his mother demeanour was remarkable to behold. “I knew it! I am _never_ wrong about these things!” She was grinning – not smiling, grinning. “What are the businesses?”

“Not completely sure, but catering seems to be the thrust of-”

“Catering?” Now she was horrified. Her grip on his arm was ferocious. “You bring a chef to my home and do not think to tell me? Syed, what is wrong with you? Okay, okay, now what we must do is – I will write you a list and you must get these- Oh don't bother, you are completely hopeless. I will go myself! Where is my bag?”

He watched her running around, fetching this, writing that, all the while firing off instructions to anyone in the house who was foolish enough to allow themselves to be seen. Scratching his head he left her to it, wondering at which precise moment in time the day had taken a left turn and landed squarely in the land of farce...

 

**

“Christian, for god's sake, don't. Tam and Shab are still here. They could walk in at any moment.” Plus it seemed disrespectful to be doing anything like that in his mother's house, behind her back. One thing to kiss Christian in the car or in his house, quite another to do it under his mother's roof. He really hoped he wouldn't need to spell that out. He was aware that Christian had a sense of how he felt, just wasn't sure he wasn't putting this in that 'Things Syed Needs To Get Over' category.

Didn't matter that he was generally right to push Syed on expanding his perceived limitations, the process itself was always sticky and far from painless, and Syed simply didn't want to go there today.

“I wouldn't take it that far, Sy, come on, but a kiss? What's wrong with that?” He asked this with his lips moving against Syed's throat, fingers weaving through his hair, making it hard to mount any kind of resistance.

“She likes you.” Translation: don't disrespect her by making out with her son behind her back – in her own home.

Christian got it.

Moving a few inches away he looked Syed in the eye. “I like her too.” And moved even further away, though not before running an affectionate hand through Syed's hair, ordering it as effortlessly as he'd disordered it a moment before.

“She's cooking you something special. Probably lamb. Hope you like authentic Pakistani cuisine.”

Christian laughed. “Why do you think I got with you in the first place? Certainly wasn't for your looks.”

“Cheeky sod. And I happen to know that that was precisely why you got with me, you shallow bastard.” Laughing, he dodged Christian's feint, wondering not for the first time what spark of intuition had made him go against every self-preserving impulse and take a chance on Christian. Even at this early stage in his life he was certain, absolutely certain that it would turn out to be the best decision he had ever made.

 

**

His dad figured it out almost immediately, but as was his dad's wont chose not to say anything to anyone there and then. He'd ponder it, let it marinate for a while and then when he reckoned he had a handle on what he wanted to say would confront him. For now he was charm itself to Christian, and more or less normal with Syed. Syed knew, however, that the day would not end without _something_ being said. Still, he could handle his dad; had never been concerned with his dad's reaction to his relationship with Christian. No, his mum was the one whose reaction he feared. Sooner or later she'd find out and Syed was afraid that she'd be doubly incensed, yes, because she hadn't been told straight away, but, more importantly, because she'd probably feel that she'd somehow been duped into liking Christian in the first place! He was sure that she'd feel that had she known who he was prior to their first meeting, then she'd have been rather less inclined to be… well, to be fair and objective about him, and for his mum that would have to be seen as akin to being put on the back foot, something for which she had an almost pathological distaste.

Well, that wasn't his cross to bear: the fact that she hadn't allowed her prejudice to colour her instinctive liking for Christian was the clearest indication (as far as he was concerned) that _liking_ him was the natural reaction, that rejecting him on the basis of prejudice was wholly _un_ natural.

And it was this conclusion that pretty much washed away the final stubborn tendrils of guilt. Her better nature had won out so he'd take this as a green light and during the next half-term come clean about his relationship with Christian.

Knowing that she liked Christian was a weapon he could add to his arsenal – and he could admit that he'd have no compunction about using it against her – should the circumstances require. For all her faults one thing he knew was that she was no hypocrite: if he could show her her hypocrisy she'd be hard pressed to hold on to it, and would eventually let it go – reluctantly or not. She might start to resent Christian for not 'being honest' with her initially, but he was sure that Christian would be able to argue her (gently) to a standstill and/or charm her to her knees. 

The fact that she liked him was game over as far as Syed was concerned: sooner or later Christian would be part of the family...

 

**

His dad surprised him.

He was harsh and insulting and immovable: he didn't like Christian, mostly because he'd seen something that had clued him in as to the nature of their relationship (before he'd got anywhere close to being charmed by him) and had thus set his mind against him there and then.

He'd fallen back on Islam, on what was and was not acceptable, and even though Syed could see it coming a mile off it had still got to him. Clearly his dad had known that it would, which is why he'd used the tactic in the first place. Not to say that it was an excuse for his _apparent_ homophobia, just that he'd known that Syed's faith was important enough – still – to impact the way he lived his life; and might, in the end, prove to be the only factor that might change his mind about being with Christian.

He'd said his piece as they were preparing to leave, calling Syed into the kitchen while the others dallied with Christian in the front yard, continuing the interrogation that had started during dinner – his childhood, his businesses, his family.

Well at least the rest of the family liked him, but if his dad didn't then none of that would even matter in the end.

“I love him, dad. The first time I've ever felt that way.”

“Syed, look, you're still a very young man. How many times do you think you're going to feel that way during the course of your life?”

“Well never, if you have your way. First I'm going to marry a woman I don't know and then I'm going to be with her for the rest of my life-”

“It doesn't have to be like that and you know it. Me and your mum would never expect you to marry someone you didn't want to-”

“No? But you do expect me to marry a woman.”

His dad's nostrils flared a little, as though he'd just sniffed an unpleasant odour of unknown origin. “Syed, do I have to remind you what the Koran says about these types of relationship?”

“Love relationships? Authentic relationships? Relationships that make you finally know what all the songs and poems were about? No, dad, I know what the Koran says about those relationships. It venerates them.” He hadn't known he was going to say that, hadn't known he was going to come out swinging, prepared to injure his dad, injure himself in the fight to protect his relationship with Christian.

His dad stared at him, angry now, offended, but, unable to find the words that wouldn't rip an irreparable hole in the relationship with his son, remained silent.

Syed instinctively sensing this, sensing a window of opportunity, approached his father, allowing everything he was feeling to show in his eyes. “Dad, I love you and mum more than anything, but you can't keep running my life – in this way. I want to be everything you want me to be, want to give back _twice_ as much as you've given me over the years, but if it means pretending to be someone I'm not, someone I can't ever be then I'm sorry to be a disappointment, but I won't keep doing that. If it means I’m no longer welcome in the family then, then...” Taking a deep breath he tried to keep talking though his eyes were prickling and his chest heaving as the emotion enveloped him. “Then okay, I'll accept that, but I won't give him up and I won't lie about how I feel – who I am. I know it's hard for you and I know I'm asking a lot, but can't you just try to accept me as I am, even if it means you have to also accept that I'm not the son you thought you had?”

Syed couldn't really have said what reaction he might reasonably have expected from his dad, but he certainly, at this point, could not have expected the one he got. 

Face crumbling, for the first time in what felt like forever his father took him in his arms and hugged him tight. “Oh Syed, son, son, it's not-”

“What is going on? Mas? What's happening?”

Startled, Syed turned to see his mother in the doorway looking at them, not with either concern or anxiety, but with an expression that told him that she'd heard pretty much everything that had been said in the last few moments.

Closing his eyes he silently acknowledged that he simply didn't have the strength to go even one more round in this fight...

 

**

Christian pulled over, parking the car on a quiet suburban road.

Killing the engine he turned to look at Syed. “You told her.”

Syed nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Christian was silent for a while then reached over to take his hand. “Well I did sort of guess. The descent of the unseasonable Arctic frost kinda gave it away.” Syed could sense that Christian was examining his face, but couldn't meet his eyes. “Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you into-”

“It wasn't you. I did it.” Now he did turn to look at him, strengthened by his need to defend Christian – even from himself. “I made the choice. I was wrong to try to deceive them, pretend that you aren't who you are. All my life I've done nothing but hide, pretend, play games – lie. And it's come back to bite me in the bum. And I deserve it Christian, don't think I don't. You don't know how easy it is to pretend to be who you’re not, because that's not you, it's not a game you've ever played, but eventually it gets so that it's easier to lie than tell the truth, even when it matters, even when it doesn't matter. It just becomes a habit. I shouldn't have tried to do it about us, about you. It's my _life,_ Christian, and starting it with a lie is just stupid. No, don't, let me say it. You have no idea how much it mattered telling them who I am. I'd been hiding from that long before you came on the scene, Christian, and it was time for me to stop. I didn't come here today with any expectation that I'd be coming out to them, stripping myself bare, and what does that tell you about where my head was at? I'd introduce you to them and _not_ tell them who you were? How fucked up does a person have to be to do that, to think it's _okay_ to do that?”

“Sy...”

“No, Christian, you have no idea. I needed this, I just didn't realise it until I was there, telling them. Not pretending it was easy, but it feels cathartic to have been honest when it was easier not to be.” Now he was able to find a smile for Christian – a genuine one. “I'm actually bloody proud of myself.”

Christian smiled, ruffled his hair. He seemed to like doing that, seemed completely fascinated by the fall and texture of Syed's hair. “Me too. But you already knew that.”

“Yes, but now I think your pride is _justified_ ,” he told him, smiling into his eyes. “Now I think I’ve touched base with the guy _you_ seem to think I am, and I think I quite like him.”

Christian laughed and placed a gently affectionate kissed on his mouth. “Finally. And is there any chance of getting the new guy in bed with us tonight? I quite fancy a threesome.”

“Well just so long as _you're_ in the middle,” he suggested, returning the kiss with interest.

 

**

Syed was drifting off when he felt Christian getting out of bed. They could both hear the trill of his mobile in the lounge where they'd left it – along with the rest of their hastily discarded clothes. He was too sleepy to do more than peer at Christian's naked back disappearing out the door...

He came to when Christian slid back into the warm space he'd vacated what felt like hours ago and drew the strong arm possessively around himself. “Hi. Who was it?”

Christian kissed him on the temple. “On the phone? Oh no-one, just your mum.”

“Uh? What? My mum?” He tried to turn, but Christian's embrace held him in place.

“Yeah, she was very terse, insisted that I take myself up there next Saturday – without you – and since I'm a chef cook the entire family a decent meal – unless, of course, I was lying about that too.” Syed could feel the rumble of Christian's amusement against his back. “Has a way with words, your mum.”

“Yes,” he agreed, fighting hard for clarity. “Let me get this straight: you've just spent the last five minutes-”

“Try 20. I was freezing my nuts off. Feel.” His amusement increased ten-fold as he allowed Syed to do just that.

“Anyway,” Syed chided, squeezing gently. “You got a phone call from my mum, the outcome of which was her inviting you up there for dinner?”

“Si.”

“And you agreed?”

“Si.”

“And she isn't cross with you?”

“Well, maybe a little cross, but I'm guessing she's planning on taking it out on my cooking, possibly my dress sense...”

Christian,” he sighed, “You really don't know my mother.”

“Actually, sweetheart, I do. I told you I like her. I'm good like that – with people. I tend to be able to tell the good uns from the duds. It's why I'm good at what I do. And okay, she would probably prefer that I not be involved with her son, but she's going to try to get over that and do her best to accept that I am with her son and not mind – too much. May take a while, but eventually I’ll be her favourite son-in-law, maybe even her favourite daughter-in-law...”

“Not funny, Christian, and don't for goodness sake make those sort of jokes in front of mum!”

“Lighten up, Masood.” A pinch of the skin on Syed's lean thigh. “You're the one who may not know your mum as well as you think you do. Kids never see their parents the way they really are. Trust me, she's a lot more fun than you give her credit for.”

Syed was silent for a while, wondering what the hell had gone on during that twenty minute phone conversation. What the hell had they talked about for 20 minutes? And why had she phoned Christian and not him? And how the hell had she even known his number? “How did she get your number?”

“Oh, Tamwar gave it her.”

Tamwar, always bloody Tamwar. Hold on a sec... “How did Tamwar get your number? You gave Tamwar your number? Are you out of your mind?”

He could somehow sense Christian’s bright smile. “I like him. Never had a kid brother, always wanted one.”

“Fine, you're welcome to mine, only don't make up for lost time by bloody inviting him everywhere with us. First it'll be Tamwar, then it'll be Shabnam, then mum, then dad. Before we know it we'll be part of the Masood family get-togethers, and believe me, no, just no!”

Since Christian was suspiciously silent Syed was forced to turn to look at him.

What he saw made his blood run cold: Christian was grinning hugely and when he saw the look of horror on Syed's face shrugged and leaned in to kiss him. “Always wanted a big family. Might borrow some of your mum's recipes for the restaurant...”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
